


You teach me & I'll teach you

by civillove



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-13 21:18:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1241101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompts I received on my tumblr when I requested drabble ideas. It was this prompt: in which Blaine is a cute kindergarten teacher at Sebastian's little niece's school + an ask to continue it with a conference + now it's become a verse so I'll update it with random ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The giggling and running of children is the first thing that greets Blaine in the morning as he walks into his classroom and it’s the last thing that vibrates his eardrums when he leaves school for the day. He can’t honestly say that being a kindergarten teacher in Ohio of all places is where he thought he’d end up when he was selecting colleges his senior year of high school, but to say the least, he doesn’t regret his decision one bit.

After the first few years of teaching, breaking him into the swing of things, he’s got a lot to be proud of. He has his own classroom, small but manageable, the walls a pale blue with tiny desks and hand prints in different colors splattered along the far wall where the coat rack is. Buckets of colored pencils, paints and crayons, smocks and hundreds of different construction paper fill up bins near his desk and student’s drawings hang from a string by clothespins, connecting the two sides of the room together.

It’s his second home, no matter how frazzled he sometimes gets by the end of the day.

It’s nearing pick up time for most of his students, some of them staying later than others for their parents to get done with work. Blaine keeps them occupied with plado, finger-painting and various crafts that include popsicle sticks. He scoops up Jimmy, who is known for going after glue like its icing and takes him to the built in sink near the closet door to have him wash his hands.

He helps him stand on the stool and sings ‘Happy Birthday’ with him twice to make sure he washes his hands long enough and sets him down after he’s dried his fingers, Jimmy hugging him around his neck in thanks.

“I’m here to pick up Rose?” Someone asks and he turns, standing to his full height.

He’s never seen the tall gentleman in the doorway before but he’s pretty sure his mouth falls open onto his feet because, _damn_ , his legs are long and his frame is skinny but he fills out his clothes in a delicious way that has Blaine’s brain restarting before he speaks.

“What?”

The other chuckles. “They let you work here? You’re as short as some of the munchkins.” He teases, eyes sparkling a bright green that Blaine totally doesn’t stare at and almost fall into.

He hears Rose squeal from the other side of the room and run towards the other male, the brunette bending at his waist to pick the little girl up and greet her with millions of kisses against her cheeks to make her giggle and something distinctly French. Blaine blinks and ignores the swoop in his belly.

“I’m sorry, I uh, I’m Mr. Anderson. I don’t believe we’ve met before. Usually Rose’s mother picks her up…you have a very lovely and talented daughter.”

He hums, outstretches his hand and shakes Blaine’s. “You can call me Sebastian.” His eyes sparkle and his lips twitch and the shorter has the feeling that ‘or call me whatever you want’ lingers in the air, unspoken. “And this is my niece.”

 _Niece_. “Well, still, my compliments remain the same.” He sticks his hands in his pockets, glances back at the kids to make sure everyone is alright (and that Jimmy isn’t getting into the glue again) before looking back at Sebastian.

“Do you have a first name, Mr. Anderson?” Sebastian asks, his eyes ticking down Blaine’s form in a nonchalant way.

And that’s how Blaine comes to the conclusion that he’s definitely dealing with someone who’s _not_ straight.

“Bane!” Rose exclaims and then puts her hands up to her mouth, giggling.

Sebastian raises his eyebrows and winks at his niece. “You get ice cream on the way home, citrouille.”

He clears his throat. “Blaine.” He nods. “You can call me Blaine.”

“I think I’ll do that.” Sebastian states, shifting on his feet. “I’d also love if I could have a conference with you at some point, you know…to talk about Rose’s artwork.”

“Sure.” His voice definitely doesn’t squeak and Sebastian definitely _doesn’t_ wink at him on the way out after giving him his number.

 

000

 

He doesn’t usually have conferences after school…and he definitely doesn’t have them with kid’s _uncles_ but he figures making an exception for Sebastian Smythe is not going hurt anything. Or he hopes at least in the long run it’s not. They’re going to be kids around and if he’s learned or observed anything about Sebastian in the brief time he’s met him, he can understand that the other male isn’t exactly family friendly.

The last thing he wants floating around the school is that he was flirting with someone in his classroom while he upheld the after school program. Sebastian’s gorgeous but he’s not _that_ breathtaking that the principal will let him go with a slap on the wrist for it.

But at least the atmosphere of bustling kids getting ready to leave school calms his nerves and he starts to pack up his classroom and get students organized like he does any other day, letting the fact that Sebastian is coming to pick up Rose any minute linger in the back of his mind.

 Blaine makes sure Rose’s work folder is on his desk and adjusts his bowtie (no he _hadn’t_ spent twenty minutes that morning picking it out, it’s green to match Sebastian’s eyes which is completely a coincidence) four times before interceding Jimmy’s daily adventures with glue.

He doesn’t notice him at first, leaning causally against the doorframe of his classroom as he picks up random popsicle sticks littering his floor. Doesn’t notice how Sebastian’s eyes follow the way his hips move or the way his ass fills out his pants as he bends to pick up random toys so no one trips. But Blaine can tell that that’s _exactly_ what he had been doing when he notices the slow smile on Sebastian’s face.

Blaine goes bright red and Rose helpfully calls out the color as she sees it on his cheeks.

This was such a bad idea.

He clears his throat and reminds himself that they’re in a school for the fiftieth time. “Good afternoon, Mr. Smythe. Please, come in.”

Sebastian smiles and shrugs off his suit jacket, a blue and neatly pressed button down shirt molding to his trim stomach as he does. Blaine takes the jacket from him to hang up with his own coat…because knowing his classroom, any other piece of clothing is likely to get glue, glitter, markers or all of the above on it.

Blaine goes to write on his blackboard, picking up a yellow piece of chalk, getting himself ready for tomorrow where the kids and he sing about the month, the day of the week and the number that goes along with it.

He erases Monday, October 6th to write the Tuesday, October 7th.

“Call me Sebastian.” He insists, waving at Rose as she runs over to him. He swoops her up and gives her greetings and affectionate words in French, nuzzles her cheek with his nose. “Please, because I don’t intend on calling you Mr. Anderson. Unless you like that sort of thing.” He winks and Blaine hand accidently snaps the piece of chalk that’s hanging loosely between his fingers.

He clears his throat, Sebastian smirking at the yellow dust staining his skin and his black pants from his mishap.

“I’ll uh, I’ll keep that in mind.”

He watches the taller set Rose down and Blaine instructs her to walk (not run) to get one of her projects to show her Uncle. He keeps a watchful eye for a moment on the few kids that are still in his care until their parents pick them up before he turns to look at Sebastian.

“I have her folder too if you want to take a look.” He offers, moving towards his desk and the other follows him, long limbs making Blaine feel like he might be cramped, even in a room like this.

“That’s fine, but I’d rather talk about you.” Sebastian states, leaning against the desk, making the wood creak.

A breath catches in Blaine’s chest and he stares at him for a moment before smoothing his hands down his red checkered shirt. “I thought you wanted this conference to talk about Rose’s art.”

He shrugs before smiling. “I may have lied.”

Blaine smiles softly and shakes his head, one of his student’s ears perking at Sebastian’s words. The little girl gasps audibly before putting her hands over her mouth. She runs up to Blaine’s leg and tugs on his dress pants insistently.

“Misster A, your fren fib!”

He kneels on one knee and gently fixes Lucy’s dress so it’s not sticking up on the sides. “Ohh, you caught that huh?” He asked, giving her a grin. “And what happens when we fib, hmm?”

She points to a jar that’s sitting next to his desk that’s labeled ‘the fib jar’ and he reaches on his desk to peel a little gold star sticker from a packet before placing it on her hand. She grins like the sun’s about to shoot out of her mouth and runs to the other kids to show them.

He stands and crosses his arms over his chest.

“You have a lying jar?” Sebastian asks, amusement lacing his tone.

“It’s not nice to fib Sebastian,” He teases, feels almost at ease for what has to be the first time around the other male. “Usually when I catch one of them fibbing I take a gold star from their chart and stick it in the jar.” He nods his head towards a chart on the other end of the room that has student’s names on it. “By the end of the week, if they have all their stars they get a cookie.”

Sebastian grins, his eyes warming as he looks at Blaine. “Huh, guess I lost my chance at getting a cookie.”

Blaine laughs, the sound settling in the pit of Sebastian’s stomach, fizzling out to pleasantly reach every nerve ending in his body. “I guess so.”

“That’s alright. I have an idea of something else that’s sweet that I’d rather get my hands on.” He states, his eyes boring holes into Blaine’s, intent swirling amongst the green, almost making it darker in a way.

Blaine’s caught between finding his forwardness addictive and annoying at the same time.

Rose stumbles across the room with her project in her hands, leaning against Blaine’s leg, and that’s what snaps him out of the sexual tension staring match he’s somehow gotten into with her uncle.

“You all set?” He asks her, kneels again so that he can talk to her on her level. Sebastian watches from where he’s leaning against his desk, a small smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

Rose shakes her head and bumps her nose against Blaine’s shoulder, whispers rather loudly in his ear, clutches her drawing.

“Don’t be nervous,” He tells her gently, smiling at her before looking up at Sebastian. “She’s rather shy when sharing her art with other kids. _But_ ,” He looks back at Rose. “I bet your uncle already knows how great you are at drawing. You can show him.”

Sebastian’s heart swells in his chest as he watches, tries to shake off the feeling, but it’s sort of impossible to do. Watching Blaine with kids is like trying not to have a reaction to a box full of puppies, or something. He can tell, just with the way he is with them, that he genuinely cares about each and every one of them. That it isn’t just a job to him, that it doesn’t have to do with a paycheck that probably doesn’t even come close to matching Sebastian’s at the law firm but he’s _happy_. That Blaine loves his students like they love him.

That he is made for this job and vice versa.

The taller hums, getting on his knees as well as Rose turns her picture towards him. His eyes trail over the figures, noticing how tall one of them is in the corner of her drawing.

“It’s a picture on what they want to be when they grow up,” Blaine smiles, touches the picture by his hand, their fingers brush. Sebastian’s breath does _not_ gather in his throat. “I’m guessing that’s you.” He says, points to the tall figure with a black suit on and wild brown spikey locks.

He laughs, runs his thumb over the waxiness of the crayon. “It’s gorgeous, _citrouille!”_ He exclaims and tugs her close to kiss her forehead.

Blaine does his quick check of the classroom; glitter, glue and Jimmy all accounted for before standing up with Sebastian, Rose running to grab her coat and put her project back before they leave.

“You’re really good with kids.” Sebastian says, getting his own jacket from the coat rack, Blaine following closely behind.

He smiles faintly. “Thank you.”

He hesitates for a second and Blaine’s certain that this probably doesn’t happen much in terms of Sebastian, in terms of stopping and thinking before he puts effort and meaning into his words.

“You think Rose would mind if her uncle asked her teacher out on a date?”

Blaine’s cheeks turn that bright pink again. And Rose helpfully calls out the color to the rest of the kids. Sebastian laughs, the sound doing things to his insides.

“No I uh, I don’t think she’d mind at all.” He says, nodding his head before biting his lower lip.

Sebastian’s gaze glances down at the action before meeting his hazel eyes with his own green ones. He nods his head and smirks, fixing the collar of his shirt before picking Rose up before she can suction cup her way onto his leg.

Blaine catches his wrist gently as he turns to leave with an ‘oh, wait’ and picks a sticker from his pack to press onto the back of his hand. He then grins and waves at Rose before he makes his way over to the other kids, sitting on the floor to allow Jimmy to plop in his lap with a book he wants read.

Sebastian smirks and shakes his head, heading out of the classroom with Rose in his arms. He doesn’t remember to look at his hand until he’s outside but the bright pink star sticker says “WAY TO GO!” below his knuckles and he can’t stop the grin on his face as he drives his niece home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a slow build but Blaine knows that they fit together. Like when he tries to show his students how the square peg has its own slot to slide into seamlessly.
> 
> Yeah, it’s sort of like that.

So they go out on a date. And it’s nothing short of what Blaine expects it to be. They go to a tango club, a place that he knows he could never afford a night out to on his teaching salary but he could tell Sebastian was well off way before he had learned that he worked at a law firm.

The dinner had been amazing, there had even been dancing—which he doesn’t do out of his own living room on principle because he had spent half the night stepping on Sebastian’s very expensive shoes. But Sebastian only smiled, made teasing comments about the color blooming on his cheeks and taught him the steps of the tango, very slowly for the sake of his shoes.

Blaine often wonders what he’s getting into when he thinks about that night. Sebastian is charming in a way that seems effortless but is probably envied by many; the way he carries himself, calm and collected, like he knows that eyes are glossing over his every move, every line, every place that has skin taut over muscle.

They talked about a lot of things, family and work and how decisions got them to be where they are now. He’s in a constant limbo with him sometimes, that feeling of freefall where he doesn’t know whether he really likes or is flustered by that simple smirk on Sebastian’s lips that’s genuine and inferring to something more at the same time.

They seem to fit together though, in a way that he’s never felt before. He’s worried to let himself go there, a student’s uncle, but everytime he talks to him on the phone, or watches him with Rose, or falls into a banter that’s teasing and flirtatious and _good_ he finds that sensation tug on his ribs in his chest again.

 That sense that the universe is handing him a favor, a slip of fate, that overwhelming feeling that they fit like when Blaine tries to show his students how the square peg has it’s own slot to slide into seamlessly.

Yeah, it’s sort of like that.

000

October burns red and orange and fades to brown November.

The kids make turkey hands out of construction paper and glitter, Jimmy smearing glue on his cheeks and grinning about it like the kid grew wings and started flying. Blaine’s stressed about being part of a small school and that he has to gather money to buy his own supplies but he’s kind as he scoops Jimmy up and takes him to the sink.

His green shirt reminds him of Sebastian’s eyes.

He smiles, helps Jimmy washes his hands and gives him a sticker when he repeats after Blaine that glue is not for face decorating or for eating.

000

Rose’s parents go through a divorce and Blaine almost gets angry when her mother tells her when dropping her off one morning at his classroom door. He knows that it’s not his place and that he’s never been in a relationship long enough to make any key life decisions. But he feels like parents sticking together, even if they aren’t happy, is better for a kid then putting them through divorce.

Consider it experience.

Because it’s not just parents breaking up, it’s kids breaking in half.

It suddenly makes sense why Sebastian has been picking her up after school more often than her father or mother.

He can see the difference in how she plays with other kids. She’s more stingy with her toys, less willing to share like she might never get it back again, she’s less inclined to get involved with her art projects and she cries when Blaine tries to put everyone down for a twenty minute nap.

He feels conflicted when Sebastian picks her up at the end of the day and this is the sort of thing he hadn’t wanted to happen. The lines between him and Rose as her teacher and he and Sebastian as Rose’s teacher and him and Sebastian as something _else_ start to get tied up and knotted.

There’s a conflict of interest on one of those lines getting tangled but he can’t distinguish which one it is to worry about it.

“I was sorry to hear about her parents.” He says as Rose gathers her coat. He sticks his hands in his pockets.

Sebastian’s walls are up, like he’s not sure if he should be talking about this with him or not. “Yeah, me too.” He replies after a few moments, his shoulders relaxing. “Some people just don’t fit, I guess, you know?”

Yeah. Blaine knows _exactly_ what he’s talking about.

Sebastian kneels and speaks to her in French when Rose refuses to let him pick her up. Blaine doesn’t know what he says but his face is a mix between annoyance and concern. When the little girl relents, his arms fold around her frame before lifting her to his chest as they stand.

Blaine gives him a small smile and the taller mouths to him that he’ll call him. He doesn’t hold it against him when he doesn’t.

000

He gets a text from Sebastian on a Tuesday, a week later, late afternoon. His classroom is empty, the final kid taken home from after school and he moves about the space, putting things away, getting everything in order for the next day.

Sebastian: _Cleaning up glue?_

It shouldn’t be as funny as it feels, and a laugh crawls up his throat, a giddiness filling his midsection that he swallows down on, pushes it into the acid of his stomach.

He sets down a container of foam letters and picks up his phone in both hands to send a reply.

Blaine: _It’s one of the many shining features of my job._

The next reply takes four minutes and no, Blaine wasn’t counting.

Sebastian: _And you get to work with people who don’t make fun of your bowties ;)_

He shakes his head, a smile threatening to distract him from his focus of getting everything set for tomorrow. It may only be a kindergarten classroom, but the only reason it runs as smoothly as it does is because he’s learned how to be prepared. He cleans up, puts everything back in its space, researches new projects for the kids to do, replenishes worn markers or broken crayons and sanitizes nearly every surface.

Blaine can text Sebastian when he’s heading home. He’s not exactly on a time restraint or anything but he’d like to unwind in a hot shower and remove some of the glitter that’s probably found its way onto his skin under his shirt and in the layers of his hair.

His phone pings with another message.

Sebastian: _I hope you like Italian._

Blaine frowns, confused and presses the message to open it and reply when he hears the creaking of something near the door to his classroom. He turns and nearly jumps out of his skin as he finds Sebastian leaning against the doorframe (more breathtaking than he should be holding a take-out bag).

“Why Mr. Anderson, don’t you look absolutely _ravishing_ for a Tuesday afternoon?”

He laughs softly, ignores the heat pressing along the back of his neck under his collar as he approaches the other male, eyes falling to the bags in his hands.

“Italian?”

“Smart guess,” Sebastian teases. “You should be a teacher or something.”

Blaine dips his head, the blush hot on his cheeks as he shakes his head. “Come here with another excuse of a teacher conference?”

“Maybe I just missed you.”

“Don’t want to lose another star in the fib jar, hmm?” Blaine manages to say with a smile, his voice wanting to fracture with a million nuances of how happy he is to see him.

Happy and relieved.

Sebastian comes into the classroom and lets the door close, the echo greeting their ears with a muted tap. He puts the bag on his desk as Blaine finishes around the space, adjusting chairs, throwing scrap paper away, brushing his hands off his jeans before letting out a soft sigh.

“How’s Rose doing?” He asks, pulls a chair over to his desk so Sebastian can join him. He cleans up folders, pushing them aside and closing his laptop.

“Better.” Sebastian acknowledges, putting the bag down and sliding his suit jacket off. “Was she giving you a hard time last week?”

He shrugs his shoulder, takes Sebastian’s jacket and hangs it up, ignores the tug in his chest from the waft of cologne and skin that wanders to his nose.

“Not any more than any other kid on their bad days. She didn’t throw anything so that was a plus but…” He licks his lips, sitting down in his chair. He undoes his bowtie, letting it remain around his neck, the ends sitting on his button down shirt. “Just worried about her. She’s usually so involved with other kids. Other than crying at nap time she’s just been withdrawn.”

“Divorce isn’t easy on a kid.” Sebastian says softly, it’s conversational but Blaine can tell from his tone that he seems to understand.

It’s probably because he does. He knows.

He hums softly, reaches into the bags to pull out containers of pasta; smiles at the way the smell of cheeses and sauce fill the room, mixing oddly with the sanitizer and cookie air freshener he keeps plugged in behind his desk.

“She won’t stop talking about you.” Sebastian says after a moment, his voice a beat higher than before, trying to wash away his previous comment like it never existed.

Blaine gets the feeling that that doesn’t happen very often, where someone accidently gets past Sebastian’s walls and he allows them to stay there.

“What can I say,” He grins, peeling the lid off of the pasta and stabbing his fork through a noodle. “I’m popular around kids when it comes to Popsicle sticks and hand turkeys.”

Sebastian smirks. “It probably helps that you resemble one too.”

“A hand turkey?” He asks, scrunching his nose, Sebastian reaching towards him to playfully tug the end of his bowtie.

“A _kid_.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re bubbly, optimistic, you definitely dress like a little kid who just discovered his grandfather’s bowties,” He picks up the end and teases the tip of Blaine’s nose with it and the shorter playfully swats his hand before chuckling.

“You’re innocent-like.”

“Far from.” Blaine hums, the implication there and settling darkly in Sebastian’s eyes.

“Hence the tag on of ‘like’.” He says, smiles and licks his lips before looking down at his food.

They eat in silence for a few moments, the sun slipping behind the clouds as it goes down creating a warm orange glow in his room.

“It’s good though, that Rose likes you so much.” Sebastian comments offhandedly, rounding back to their original topic. “It takes her mind off things while she insistently talks to me about upcoming projects that involve making snowflakes and certain birds out of construction paper and feathers.”

“Sounds like someone has a crush.” He laughs, his voice teasing and warm. It’s actually not too surprising for him; it’s typical for kids her age to start small infatuations. Crushes that feel like true love. And who better than someone who appreciates her art and often gives her gold star stickers?

“Yeah, well,” Sebastian’s fingers dip from where they were resting on the edge of his bowtie into the collar of his shirt, nails grazing the skin under his neck. “She’s not the only one.”

Blaine looks at him a moment before he leans forward without thinking and their lips meet, it’s not a kiss exactly, it’s just skin against skin. And he pulls back too fast, skin flushed and oh God they’re still in his _classroom_.

“I’m…I’m sorry.”

Sebastian just smirks and licks his lips. Blaine can almost taste them just by licking his own, remnants of skin and sauce. He reaches forward and takes a package of stickers from a place on his desk; the shorter’s eyes zeroing in on his long fingers as he peels a gold star off after writing the letter B on it.

“No you’re not.”

And puts it in the fib jar.

000

There’s a phone call at the end of the week, a Saturday, Blaine enjoying a cup of coffee in front of his TV. He stares at the caller ID longer than he has to but it’s like his hand won’t make the decision to pick up the phone. They haven’t spoken about that sort-of-but-not-really kiss Blaine had planted on him in his classroom—mostly because both of them have been busy, a bit because it’s easier that way and a tiny part because he has no idea what to call it when he brings it up.

Or what it means.

He finally answers on the last ring. “I need your help.” Sebastian says before Blaine gets a word out.

He frowns, sits up a little and sits his coffee down. Sebastian sounds stressed, like his nerves are fried, like calling him wasn’t high on his list of things he wanted to do for the situation he’s in.

“Are you alright?” Blaine asks, turning his TV off.

“It’s Rose. Look. I wouldn’t be asking you this but…but her parents are having me watch her while they handle everything with divorce court and she’s sick and I don’t. I don’t know what to do.”

Blaine gets the feeling that Sebastian doesn’t ask for help often, because his tone is laced with something that sounds a lot like embarrassment for having to call him.

“Okay, uh, sick how?” Blaine can tell from the soft thumps he can hear that the other is probably pacing.

“She has a fever and I…” A moment passes, Blaine shifts on the couch, waits. “Can you just…”

“I’ll be over as soon as I can.” He gathers more information from the space between Sebastian’s words than the syllables themselves. “Text me your address.” 

000

Sebastian’s apartment is everything he thought it would be. It resembles him with the tall ceilings, lavish furnishings, and yet everything is simple—cool colors, dark wooden fixtures, art and photography that he probably knows nothing about hanging on his walls. It looks like a catalogue, everything is beautiful but it doesn’t feel like anyone actually lives there. It’s a space but not a home, if that makes sense.

Blaine carries in his first-aid kit that he keeps in the back of his trunk in case he needs to replenish anything in the kit he has stashed in his desk in his classroom. It hadn’t surprised him to hear that Rose wasn’t feeling well—she probably isn’t sleeping as often as she should be with everything going on with her parents, the stress of what’s going on, even if she doesn’t understand all of it, weighing heavily on her shoulders.

Sebastian hovers as Blaine takes Rose’s temperature, feels her forehead, tugs the blanket around her shoulders further as she sits on the couch and watches cartoons. She calls him ‘Bane’ even though he knows she shouldn’t. He always tries to correct the kids with a ‘Mr. Anderson’ or an ‘A’ if they can’t quite get his last name. But the blush on her cheeks and the sweat on her forehead melts him on the spot and he can’t even correct her if he tried.

“I’m sorry I called you, I probably just overreacted.”

Blaine smiles, turns his head to look at the other male—he’s different in a way he’s never seen him before. No pressed lines or harsh angles, long body in jeans and a simple white t-shirt.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind.” He closes the kit after he’s satisfied with the thermometer reading, steps out of Rose’s line of sight so she can see the TV.

“It’s just…you have such a way with kids, I—”

“It’s _fine_.” Blaine interrupts, his fingers wrapping around Sebastian’s wrist to give him a gentle squeeze. The taller’s eyes glance down at his fingertips and he doesn’t take the advantage to run his thumb over the tree of blue veins on the soft underside of his arm.

Doesn’t.

He lets go, the action harder than he would have thought. “You know, kids are vulnerable. They get sick easily. The fever is probably just from not getting enough sleep, stress at home. That sort of thing.” His voice dips low so that Rose doesn’t overhear him, steps to the side of the room with Sebastian.

Sebastian just nods, his eyes not leaving Rose a moment before running a hand through his hair. He wonders how often people see Sebastian like this. Not composed or orderly, or without that smirk that’s often on his lips but doesn’t reach his eyes all the time.

He hopes he understands that he doesn’t plan on unseeing it any time soon, that he _likes_ the combination of a hidden complexity when he cares about something, that it somehow mixes and contrasts the confident, and sexy bravado he’s known for at the same time.

“Her parents have been handing her off to me a lot more lately. Which is fine, of course but I don’t always…know what I’m doing.”

Blaine smiles a little. “Taking care of kids is a fine art, trust me.”

“She was fine and then she wasn’t, I thought I fucking broke her.”

He snorts, covers his chuckling with his hand as Sebastian glares at him. “No, you didn’t break her,” He starts walking towards the front door, sticking his hands in his pockets, a smile clear in his words. “She’ll bounce back with some sleep and soup. Just keep an eye on her temperature.”

Sebastian hesitates, his fingers trailing down the doorjamb as Blaine opens the front door a fraction. It’s really distracting, watching those long fingers follow the contours of the pattered engravings of the wood. Anything he wants to say is sort of lost under his tongue.

“Thanks for coming. Really.” The taller says, breaks the silence.

Blaine nods, a grin yanking at the corners of his lips. “Well, you sounded like you were close to having a breakdown like when I take Jimmy away from glue sometimes, so,” He shrugs.

Sebastian smirks, shakes his head, his eyes glancing down at his lips in a way that makes Blaine squirm, makes him feel self-conscious. But it’s addicting too, in a way he can’t explain.

“Well, I should…”

He turns to leave but Sebastian grabs his forearm, directs his attention back to him and presses their lips together. It’s different than the time in his classroom, there’s more to it, Sebastian is guiding him, his lips moving against his own until his brain catches up with his mouth and reciprocates. He tastes like coffee and toothpaste and somehow that combination is tantalizing, his body folds until their chests touch and his hand rests against Sebastian’s chest.

His fingertips feel the pitter patter of his heartbeat underneath.

When they pull apart they share the same air for a few moments, Blaine trying to catch his breath as Sebastian grins into his mouth, nips his upper lip, grazes their noses.

“I figured if I made the move this time, you wouldn’t have to sacrifice any more stickers to the fib jar.”

000

It’s Monday, a brand new week.

He gets his classroom ready as kids start piling in, coats hanging up on little hooks along the wall under lunchboxes as the cold weather finally starts warranting a parka when leaving one’s home.

Blaine gets out the markers and crayons for the day, sanitizes the desks, makes sure new books are circulated into the reading corner and empties the fib jar—coming across a gold star with a B on it that he smiles a bit too long over.

He keeps it in his pocket for the rest of the day.

Since it’s cold and blustery, with hints of snow lingering in the air, he figures it’s the perfect day to make snowflakes with construction paper, popsicle sticks and cotton balls. Rose comes over to him as he helps Robert glue something together, giving him a blue marker when he asks for one and tugs on his shirt.

He checks on other kids with his eyes before giving her his full attention.

“Hey you, and how are doing today Miss Rose?”

She giggles and plays with the bottom of her dress before showing him her winter wonderland scene which is basically blue construction paper with a ton of cotton balls glued all over. He makes a grand gesture of it anyways, pretends it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

Stuff as simple as that can make a kid smile _all_ day.

“Why don’t you go show Sarah how you did this, hmm?”

She nods her head but before she leaves she leans forward to whisper in his ear, which isn’t exactly whispering at all.

“Un Seb says he liiiiiike kwises Bane.”

Blaine’s mouth falls open as he looks at her, his cheeks a hot pink so fast that he thinks he might burst into flame on principle. She giggles and touches his cheek before skipping off to Sarah with her artwork.

Jimmy, the glue monster himself, instantly calls out the color on his face and the rest of the kids chorus—he can  literally see Sebastian’s slow smirk in his mind’s eye and _fuck_ ,

yeah,

he is _so_ in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a verse that I think I’m going to keep adding to if I get inspiration! But you can always send me your ideas too since this started with a lovely drabble prompt, if you have any, via an ask :) thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’ve had a date and missed phone calls, they’ve shared dinner and lunch and kisses. Skin on skin even though they’ve never really talked about it like it’s happened or what it means. They’re in this weird limbo and shade of gray, not one thing or another.  
> But Blaine somehow likes it like that. It’s complicated and exciting and doesn’t mean that they’re something or nothing.  
> They just are.

December hits his classroom hard.

Coats clog up the coat racks, boots with slush and salt stain his carpet and constantly give the green material a wet marsh look. He’s running a bit low on money to replenish glue and construction paper, things that are needed for the kids to complete the month themed projects. And his students seem sick more often than not; even when he sanitizes everything at the beginning and end of the day.

The colder months are never kind to him, but the kids light up at the snow and at the prospect of their respective holidays greeting them with family and toys and a span of time dedicated to just being an innocent _kid._ He envies them for that.

Blaine used to enjoy the holidays when his parents were still together. Now it’s the haphazard plan of driving to his mom’s and his father’s respective houses, crammed into one day, trying to spend an equal amount of time at both while eating too much food so it doesn’t seem like he harbors any favoritism.

He loves December, really he does, the anticipation of the holidays and snow and bundling up in a million of different layers, giving him the excuse to wear his millions of different cardigans…

But in the end, it puts him in a bad mood, something he can’t bring to work. He _never_ lets his students know when he’s bothered by something. He doesn’t want it to infect the way he teaches them, and while kids can be highly perceptive, the last thing he wants is for them to think that his sour mood has to do with something they’ve done.

So even when he has to pick Jimmy up and take him to the sink to wash glue from his hands for the umpteenth time, he squeezes him in a hug with a smile and watches him do the same thing all over again when he gets back to his project.

Cooper would tell him that hiding his feelings from the rest of the world isn’t just something he does with his students; he retracts in on himself sometimes, worries about other people’s problems before his own. It’s just something he’s always done and it’s never really bothered him. He doesn’t need to lean on other people to deal with his own issues.

He’s always been able to work through them himself. And that’s worked well for him for the past how many years, why change that pattern now?

Blaine glances over his desk as he closes his laptop, looking at the time again before rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Rose is the only one left in his classroom, his after school hours running past five. Not that he minds; he knows her parents have been going through a difficult time lately and that they’ve been late to pick her up more than once.

He stands and grabs a jar of cookies he keeps under his desk, kneeling next to her as she reads a book. He smiles as she turns her head to look at him, tugging the one side of his bowtie.

“You want a cookie?”

“Whes my mom?” She asks softly, her hand slipping into the cookie jar to grab a flower shaped one.

He rubs her back soothingly. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon, sweetheart.”

As if on cue, the door opens, nearly bangs against the wall as Sebastian strolls in, coat half on, satchel falling from his shoulder as he looks around the room. The panic in his eyes quell as they fall on Rose, Blaine hesitating from his position on the floor next to her before he stands.

“I’m so sorry, I had a meeting that ran late and I thought her mother was going to get her—”

Blaine shakes his head, Rose moving to get her coat and bookbag that’s hanging up on one of the hooks at the far end of the classroom.

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it. You know I’d stay with her until I made sure she got a ride home.” He assures him, setting the cookie jar down on his desk.

The taller sighs, runs a hand through his hair that’s littered with small dollops of water from melted snow. Blaine finds a small smile quirking at the ends of his mouth.

“This disheveled look, while attractive, isn’t going to help against the cold right?” He asks, moving to gently fix Sebastian’s coat.

Sebastian smirks, straightens his back, like he doesn’t like the idea of looking unkempt in front of Blaine. He watches him adjust the right side of his coat, making sure it’s buttoned, hands lingering on material as the shorter glances up at him through his eyelashes every so often.

The frazzled aura that had encompassed Sebastian when he came into his classroom seemingly starts to dissipate as Blaine’s fingers pause against the material of his dress shirt, heat of his skin pressing into the taller’s. He doesn’t put much thought into the fact that his touch seems to visibly cause Sebastian to relax.

Doesn’t.

He clears his throat and pulls his hands back, sticks them in his pockets before he does more damage.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I know, work has been kicking my ass.” Sebastian winces before he glances over at Rose as she stuffs an art project in her bookbag. “You don’t have a swear jar, do you?”

Blaine chuckles, shaking his head. “No, they’re in kindergarten. I usually don’t come across a lot kids with a very colorful vocabulary.”

He believes Sebastian about being busy, that his missed phone calls or ignored texts weren’t something personal. He imagines climbing up the law firm ladder is a steep and time consuming one. And as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, their _acquaintanceship_ seems to work regardless of how much time leaks in-between talking to one another.

“I can start one if you’re going to frequently swear when you show up in my classroom.” Blaine shrugs, his tone teasing and light.

“A swear jar just for me, I’m swooning Anderson.”

“Just think of all the cookies you’ll get for good behavior.”

Sebastian hums, his eyes trailing up the side of Blaine’s body, giving him a soft smile that means so much more than words. “I’d rather work towards something else.”

“More nap time or a packet of your own gold star stickers?” Blaine asks, rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet, smirking in amusement.

“Or another date with you.” Sebastian says, Blaine’s hazel eyes snapping right to green ones, digging past the color, trying to analyze his words.

He opens his mouth to say something when Rose rushes over and tugs on Sebastian’s pant leg, the taller bending at the waist to lift her into his arms.

“Jusqu'à ce que nous rencontrons à nouveau.” Sebastian tips his head at him, his tongue curling around those words like an intimate embrace.

It settles warmly in his belly, even though he’s not quite sure what he’s said, it sounds a lot like goodbye. The taller squeezes Rose against his frame, turns to leave, his stomach dropping out as he takes steps further and further away from him.

He has no idea why he feels the sensation like sand slipping from his fingers as Sebastian leaves but he doesn’t like it and tries to grab a hold of him by attempting to work the words that are built up in his throat out of his mouth.

Blaine doesn’t know when their relationship (or if one could even call the static electricity and flirtatious banter between them a certain kind of _relationship_ ) became a measured balance of give and take. Of Sebastian making a move and then Blaine reciprocating. Or vice versa. He feels like it’s _his_ turn to take the next step, to initiate something further even though they haven’t exactly gone very far.

It’s all very misshaped and out of order, and yet it fits together like they somehow do.

Haphazardly.

They’ve had a date and missed phone calls, they’ve shared dinner and lunch and kisses. Skin on skin even though they’ve never really talked about it like it’s happened or what it means. They’re in this weird limbo and shade of gray, not one thing or another.

But Blaine somehow likes it like that. It’s complicated and exciting and doesn’t mean that they’re something or nothing.

They just _are._

And he knows that they can’t stay that way, that nothing will work or come out of that. But he doesn’t mind staying there just a little bit longer.

“Do you like pancakes?” Blaine squeaks out as Sebastian turns to leave, Rose’s head on his shoulder.

Sebastian’s eyebrows lift at him in the form of a question, his lips trembling with an amused smile. “Sure, who doesn’t like pancakes?”

“Waffle people,” Blaine says sincerely, but it makes the taller laugh. “Seriously, it’s an unspoken breakfast war.”

“Why are you asking?” Sebastian turns his body to face Blaine’s, the shorter almost tripping over a desk leg as he steps closer—can nearly feel the heat of the other’s chest through his coat.

“I want to cook you breakfast.” He says. It’s not the smoothest invitation but Sebastian’s eyes sparkle with interest. “Pancakes, specifically.”

Sebastian hums. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m not a waffle person, or I’d never be able to speak to you again. With breakfast wars at stake, and all that.” 

Blaine grins. “That’d be such a catastrophe.”

“Tragedy.” Sebastian agrees, winking at him.

Blaine writes down his address on a slip of construction paper and hands it to him, to which Sebastian pockets, adjusts Rose in his arms and leaves. The echo of the door closing reverberates in his chest, his classroom feeling suddenly very empty.

Maybe Decembers aren’t so bad after all.

000

His entire apartment smells like batter, a wonderfully sweet sugary aroma that seeps into every nook and cranny, stays there, brings warmth with every inhale. Blaine loves cooking, even though he usually has no one to do it for but himself. His grandfather taught him at a very young age how to handle a pan, a spatula, how to love the ingredients and use them correctly. It’s not until he’s making batter for Sebastian he realizes that his grandpa taught him that way so he could share it with someone else.

Sebastian arrives at his place on time, not a moment later, his impeccable time keeping in line with who he is as a person, how he lives. He’s punctual, organized, planned—like his perfectly pressed suits and calculated filing of his law cases and the way he decorates his home. He can tell by the way the taller’s eyes glaze over his apartment that he’s thinking Blaine is the exact opposite.

His living room has a TV, a couch that’s somehow patches of maroon fabric and navy at the same time, he has a lot of plants that sit on his window sill and art facing the hallway to his bedroom and bathroom that he knows all about. Handpicked for the stories behind the pastels and oil painted brushstrokes.

The walls are bright, painted with evergreens and sky blues, his kitchen is sunflower yellow, creating a glow as sun seeps in the windows. It’s not too bright that it hurts the eyes but just enough that it’s warm, like Blaine himself. The refrigerator isn’t organized and it’s covered with drawings from his students, giant magnets that are either cartoon characters or letters. He’s got way too many coffee cups to fit into one of his cupboards, so most of them, his favorites, line the wall near the sink.

While Sebastian’s apartment resembles a furniture catalog, Blaine’s mimics one of those Adore Home magazines with an article dedicated to painting your rooms to fit your personality, throw rug extravaganzas or maximizing the reach of your feng shui. It _feels_ like a home here, like it’s an extension of Blaine, of his lungs and heart.

“I can’t believe you’ve never made pancakes before.” He helps tip Sebastian’s hand, spilling the batter from the glass container, the thick consistency slowly pouring from the spout into the pan.

“I’ve had them at restaurants, doesn’t that count?” Sebastian asks, glancing at Blaine’s hand resting over his own, the way his thumb dips between his fingers. “I usually don’t have time or the energy to cook extravagant breakfasts for myself.”

“Pancakes aren’t extravagant.” Blaine grins, motioning for Sebastian to set the batter down. He picks up a few chocolate chips from a bowl resting near the stove, watches as the fire licks under the pan, waiting for the perfect moment to flip the pancake.

“Then why make a show out of cooking them?” Sebastian teases, picking up a chocolate chip and popping it into his mouth.

Blaine hums gently, watches as the taller’s tongue sneaks out between his lips to lick his lower one. He sprinkles the chocolate chips in his hands before they can melt on his skin in the batter resting in the pan.

“Maybe I just missed you.”

Blaine’s eyes flitter up to Sebastian’s, his hand moving to linger on a spatula to flip the pancake. Sebastian smiles slowly, his eyes glancing down to his lips. He’s pretty sure they have the same thought at the exact same time but neither of them acts on it, even though every muscle in Blaine’s body is telling him to do so.

“Your pancake is going to burn.”

“On the contrary,” Blaine clears his throat, flips the pancake with ease, the one side a perfect golden brown. “I know what I’m doing.”

Sebastian laughs softly, feeds Blaine a chocolate chip, the shorter’s lips lingering on the tip of his thumb tasting hints of his skin and salt mixing with the chocolate before he pulls away. He flips the pancake a few more times and sets it down on the plate, Blaine bowing slightly before offering the spatula to Sebastian to try.

“Come on,” Blaine tips his head at the other’s eyeroll. “You’ll at least know how to make them for Rose when she’s over.”

“Yet another reason to love her teacher.” Sebastian teases, pouring more batter in the pan before scrunching his nose at it.

“I’m admired by many young minds who happen to have interests in glue and different colored construction paper.” Blaine smirks, hopping up onto his island counter, legs swinging gently as he watches Sebastian. “Flip when you see bubbles.”

His eyes glide down Sebastian’s back, his mind memorizing the muscles that are lightly outlined through the thin material of his navy blue t-shirt. He imagines kissing down his spine, dipping his nose into his skin, his stomach flipping at the warmth of his body, how his skin smells. He’s pulled from his trail of thought as Sebastian flips the pancake, almost knocking half of it out of the pan.

Blaine laughs, even though raw batter spills onto his stove, drips gently and covers the one side of the frying pan.

“Fast hands.”

Sebastian grins at him over his shoulder. “You have no idea.” He winks and Blaine’s stomach bottoms out.

No, he doesn’t. But he thinks he’d like to.

000

Blaine manages to coerce Sebastian into making a batch of pancakes, all of which taste decadently like chocolate, butter and syrup. They have more than enough, but Blaine spends his time stealing forkfuls from Sebastian’s plate, to which those long fingers tickle his sides when he catches him.

It’s domestic in a way it really shouldn’t be. They’re not together, they’re something different than friends, they’re not much of anything. But they seemingly fall into this comfortableness around one another and that’s what he likes most. That he doesn’t have to try very hard with Sebastian, that he can just be himself. That it works without so much effort.

They talk about the time missed since that kiss when Rose was sick, that her parents are better with one another now that they’ve gotten the divorce papers all lined up. Sebastian talks about his job, about how he’s trying to work out of his father’s shadow, that he’s happy but Blaine doesn’t believe him. Sebastian’s a great lawyer but that doesn’t mean he should be one.

That he even _wants_ to be one.

Blaine talks about the holidays and how he doesn’t want to go through the motions of yet another tug-o-war session between his parents. He absorbs the warmth of Sebastian’s hand through his pores as it rests on his own, squeezes and says he understands. And Blaine believes him.

“The holiday has a lot more to offer than family drama.” He grins; helping Blaine put dishes in the sink.

Blaine hums, turns the water on to fill up one side of the sink. He might as well get the dishes out of the way for the night so he doesn’t have to worry about it tomorrow.

“Optimism from a lawyer, color me intrigued.” He teases, putting dish soap into the water as he turns the faucet off, tiny bubbles floating through the air.

“I think you’re confusing optimism with cockiness.” Sebastian says, a smile in his voice, something Blaine notices happens a lot around him. A smile there without it plainly on his face.

The taller leans his back against the one side of the sink, with the dirty dishes, crosses his arms over his chest. Blaine doesn’t notice the way his muscles flex gently against the t-shirt he has on.

“I’ll show you sometime.” Sebastian offers quietly.

Blaine looks up at him, a soft smile playing on his lips, his heart fluttering—something he’s never quite felt with anyone else before. A promise for something more than he can offer himself, a decidedly whole sensation behind his ribcage. Like there’s this opportunity he’s never had before, even in the simplicity of Sebastian’s words there’s something there. Something he’s scared of and needs all at the same time.

“That sounds a lot like a promise.” He whispers, swallowing as his eyes flicker down to the other’s lips briefly.

Sebastian closes the space between them, dips his head down to make up for the height difference, lets their noses graze. It nearly knocks the air right out of Blaine’s lungs. His fingers grip the counter.

“That’s because it was one.” He breathes out, the air pressing warmly against Blaine’s lips.

He opens his mouth a little, lifts himself up on his toes so that their lips brush, kisses Sebastian’s lower lip. Sebastian sucks in a soft breath, a noise sounding muffled from deep inside his chest; that seems to be all the initiative he needs because he wraps his arms around Blaine’s waist and draws him into his body.

Blaine groans gently when Sebastian moves them, their lips attacking one another’s hungrily. Lips meshing with lips and tongues exploring, teeth clicking every now and then because of how they need to be _that much closer_ to one another. His back suddenly hits the refrigerator, knocking things on top. A basket of fruit tumbles off and nearly whacks them on their heads, oranges and apples, causing Sebastian to chuckle against Blaine’s lips.

The shorter grins, a squeak coming from his throat as Sebastian surprises him and lifts him up onto the counter, Blaine tugging him between his legs. He feels his hands travel down his sides, pull his shirt between his fingers, the fabric up a little to drag his nails against his skin to cause goosebumps in their wake.

It’s the shivering sensation that seems to knock some sense and reality back into Blaine’s fuzzy brain matter because he pulls back from Sebastian’s lips like it’s painful and squeezes his eyes closed.

“Wait.” He pants gently, moving his one hand to cup Sebastian’s face, runs his thumb over his cheekbone before pressing it against his lower lip. “We…I--” There’s a lack of oxygen to his brain, he tries to force the words off his tongue. “I don’t know if we should do this…I’m…I’m Rose’s teacher.”

“Stop thinking of excuses for why you can’t,” Sebastian says, gives him an amused smile and dips his head forward so that their noses and lips brush, stroking Blaine’s side tenderly. “And instead think about all the reasons why you can’t do anything _but_ this.”

Something so spontaneous doesn’t seem like it can come from Sebastian; someone who’s calculated and organized, planned and strategic. Then again this is the same person who came into his classroom and flirted with him shamelessly in front of all of his kindergarten students.

So.

“Does anyone ever say no to you?” Blaine smirks, nips at his upper lip, scoots forward on the counter and groans softly when Sebastian’s breath hitches.

The taller laughs, breathy and slightly pitched. “Not usually. What can I say, I’m _determined_.”

A characteristic he’s starting to enjoy more and more; Blaine grinning as their lips join again in a heated kiss, dishes forgotten.

000

For a guy who lives alone, Blaine does a lot of grocery shopping.

Every Saturday, just like clockwork, he wakes up, makes a list between eating a toaster strudel and sipping his coffee and heads to the store to pick said things up. He always needs essentials, like coffee and oatmeal, but this week it’s sort of different.

**Sebastian** : _Get French Vanilla coffee and fresh strawberries._

Blaine chuckles and shakes his head at the text before another pops up.

**Sebastian** _: Oh and Log Cabin syrup. I’m not eating breakfast at your place again Anderson if I have to suffer through Mrs. Butterworth._

They had had the scheduled breakfast at Blaine’s house once before Sebastian came over two Sunday’s after that. And then again on that Sunday after that. And again. Until it was an unspoken thing between them: breakfast at Blaine’s on Sunday at ten in the morning.

He’s in love with this routine, with the smell of batter and fresh pancakes (or sometimes waffles when there’s a debate), of kisses that taste like sugar and syrup and most importantly Sebastian. He’s always enjoyed breakfast, of taking the time to make things from scratch and enjoy the fruits of his labor, forcing time to stand still in his kitchen, just for a little longer as he butters pancakes and sips on his coffee.

But there’s something different in having Sebastian there in the middle of it and he can’t quite put his finger on what it is.

He just knows that he’s tried to have pancakes without Sebastian and he doesn’t like it. Not one bit.

That’s how Blaine knows he’s definitely more screwed than he was before, if that’s even possible.

He knows that staying in this shade of gray for long periods of time isn’t good for either of them, that the safeness he feels is an illusion, but he can’t quite force himself out of his ignorant bliss just yet either.

It’s probably something he should talk over with Sebastian or at least think about; instead, he just waits for the other inevitable shoe to drop.

He’s picking up the Log Cabin syrup with an eye roll, about to take a picture to send to Sebastian with a ‘happy?’ captain when he feels a pair of arms wrap around his legs. The force of it nearly knocks him into a display of cereal but he smiles anyways when he looks down and sees Rose in pigtails.

“Hey you.” He laughs, putting the syrup in his basket. “Where did you come from—”

“Rose?” He hears before he sees her mother turn down the aisle, relief over her face as she spots her little girl. “Rose, what have I told you about walking away from me.”

Blaine smiles and pats one of Rose’s pigtails, encouraging her to detangle herself from his legs, and she does. Her mother scoops her into her arms, smiling sheepishly at Blaine.

“Mr. Anderson, so nice to see you. Sorry about that.”

He shakes his head, smiling kindly. “Please call me Blaine—”

“Bane!” Rose exclaims, putting her hands up before blushing and hiding in her mother’s shoulder as Blaine chuckles.

“And it’s not a problem. I’m just glad she found someone she knew.”

Rose’s mother, _Miranda_ Blaine recalls, smiles fondly before patting her daughter on the back. “She’s a bit restless today, wants to go home and see her Uncle.”

Blaine smiles softly, can’t help it, knows and understands the feeling that comes with seeing and being with Sebastian. He licks his lips, unsure of what to say but nods anyways.

“I’m sure.” Comes out of his mouth.

She hums, in a way that makes him uncomfortable, her eyes trailing over his face, his stature. It’s like she’s reading him, or looking right through him. He’s seen Sebastian do it before too; sees him without really _looking._ It must be in the family genes, or something.

“I heard you’ve been spending more time with him as of late.”

And there it is; Blaine can literally feel the other shoe falling out of the sky and onto his head. It’s not so much what she says as it is her tone. She doesn’t approve for whatever reason.

Once again he’s hit with a hesitance and pauses before speaking. “Yeah, we’ve had breakfast together a few times. At my place.”

It sounds bad even though it’s really not. It’s true that they’ve only had breakfast and it hasn’t led to much—not that Blaine is downplaying making out. Because with Sebastian it _feels_ like so much more than that but he’s not about to divulge that information any time soon. ‘A few times’ however, is a pure white lie; it’s been more than that. At least ten other times but Blaine isn’t counting or anything.

Part of him wants to say right to Miranda’s face that it’s not her business what her brother and Blaine do with eachother but another part of him knows this had been coming, had warned Sebastian of the same thing.

“I see.” She says, clicking her tongue off the roof of her mouth, deciding how best to proceed. Blaine feels like he’s about to be scolded by a parent and he wonders for the first time if Miranda is older than Sebastian.

“Well, you understand my concern, don’t you? I don’t want Rose’s education to be compromised should something happen between you two.”

It puts him in such an awkward position because he knows if he doesn’t give into what she’s hinting at that it could all go very sour for him very fast. She could talk to the principal of his school and imply that he doesn’t have Rose’s best interests first because he’s too busy flirting with her uncle. She could pull Rose out of his class or ruin his reputation as a teacher.

He wants to argue with her, stand up for himself, for Sebastian, but he doesn’t even know what he’d be standing up _for._ They’re quick-sanded into gray, stuck there. He wants to tell her that she’s pushing her issues of divorce with her husband onto him and Sebastian, that she’s convinced by her clouded judgment that if one relationship doesn’t work than none will.

But not a hint of those words come. It’s not his place and he feels a vice-like grip squeeze his ribcage as she repeats her statement: ‘you understand, don’t you?’.

Blaine clears his throat, lets out a short breath, glancing at Rose before nodding his head. “Of course.”

Miranda nods her head, shifting Rose in her arms. “Have a nice Saturday, Mr. Anderson.”

He closes his eyes a moment as she walks past him, a cold sensation left behind his sternum as he looks down in his basket.

He puts the Log Cabin syrup back onto the shelf.

000

He cancels Sunday, which is easy enough. He lies and says he’s mixed up two Sunday’s, that his brother is coming to visit from L.A. Sebastian understands, of course he does. The next time isn’t so easy.

Blaine makes shit up on why they can’t see one another. He has a dentist appointment he forgot about, he’s out of the ingredients for pancake batter, he’s busy writing lesson plans—he does it again, and again and again.

Things keep coming up until Sebastian stops asking.

000

He knows that in the long run he’s doing the right thing.

No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much he actually _misses_ Sebastian. Small memories over the past few weeks all come back at once and press to the forefront of his mind, stealing his attention constantly. Touches or kisses that seemed small at the time but the distance between them now heightening them almost painfully in Blaine’s chest.

_Sebastian slides up behind Blaine and wraps his arms around his waist, rests his chin in his curls because yeah, the height difference is nearly comical and snags a movie from the selection the shorter is musing over._

_“I’ve always had a thing for dapper gentlemen.” Sebastian winks as he waves a Cary Grant film at Blaine._

_He chuckles. “Yeah. Me too.”_

_Blaine’s told Sebastian about how much the holidays disappoint him, even though he tries to pretend they don’t. So when December 20 th rolls around, a date that bores holes into the shorter’s chest like bullet wounds, he acts like he’s fine. _

_It’s_ not _a day that used to be filled with family for him, with dinner and wrapping presents and traditions. His parents aren’t divorced; they hold hands on the dining room table. It’s_ not _a day that makes him feel like he’s in pieces because he used to be completely_ whole.

_It’s just another, normal day._

_He feels like he should be used to it by now, the separation. Growing up he used to believe that you were supposed to idolize your parent’s relationship with one another, to find a love as strong as theirs on your own._

_He feels foolish when he thinks about it now. He understands that love can fade. That it can die. And that it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does._

_Sebastian understands. He gets it without him saying anything._

_“I’m fine, you don’t have to stay.” Blaine smiles at him, after breakfast, settling on the couch._

_The taller shrugs his shoulder, like he’s nonchalant. “I don’t have another hot date until tonight.” He winks at him before sitting next to him and puts his arm around his shoulder. “And no you’re not.” He whispers._

_Blaine slowly shakes his head and Sebastian lets him turn into his chest and press his face into his neck as tears fall down his cheeks. He memorizes the way Sebastian’s lips feel as they press into his curls._

And again.

_Sebastian hauls Rose up onto his shoulders, the little girl’s cheeks pink from an afternoon spent building a snowman in the fresh, white snow._

_“We should get her inside.” Blaine says, adjusting his beanie over his ears as Sebastian hums, distracted by something to his right._

_“Jus little wonger.” Rose pouts, her big doe eyes making his resolve shudder._

_It’s just, it’s_ cold _and they’ve been out a good part of the day. Between snowmen and hot chocolate adventures and trying to build an igloo._

_Sebastian doesn’t look concerned and Blaine opens his mouth to say something when a snowball comes out of nowhere and slams wetly against the side of his head. It nearly knocks him off balance, the other two laughing as Sebastian begins to run, Rose squealing as she holds onto her uncle tightly._

_“Or,” Blaine mutters, smiling as Sebastian hides behind a snow mound, Rose gathering snow between her gloves to try and make ammo per the taller’s instruction. “just a little longer.”_

And _again._

_“You know these things die in like a week right?” Sebastian scrunches his nose as he hangs an ornament on Blaine’s Christmas tree in his living room._

_He snorts. “Easy with the Christmas spirit there, Grinch.”_

_The taller picks up a small box of tinsel to find mistletoe underneath. “Though I’ve always been very fond of this little seasonal nuance.”_

_Blaine rolls his eyes as Sebastian hooks his arm around his waist and prevents him from putting the finishing touches on his tree, yanking him back into his chest with a small grunt._

_“Why am I not surprised?”_

_Sebastian holds the mistletoe above their heads and grins. Blaine merely smiles slowly and stands on his toes to join their lips. When the kiss breaks Sebastian’s hand falls…and it just so happens that the mistletoe is near his hips, hovering near his crotch._

_Blaine laughs as the taller waggles his eyebrows, pushing against his chest and away. Sebastian distracts him with another kiss and steals the star topper from his hands, murmuring that he’s too short to do the honors and winks as he sets it on top of the tree._

It’s the right thing to do; for Rose, for _himself._ Even if the safety of his job hadn’t been questioned thanks to Miranda’s inferences, he still has _no_ idea what he and Sebastian were or could even become. If something more was even made for them, buried underneath all that shadowy gray.

He convinces himself that there’s a limit on that sort of thing, of how much happiness a person can bring you before it abruptly just ends. He talks himself out of things that could have happened because ‘maybe’ is a terrifying, hopeful word.

_It’s better this way_ , he says to himself for maybe the thousandth time in the same day. And he almost believes it every time, right before bed.

000

His classroom is quiet.

And just as much as he likes when it’s filled with screaming and laughing children, the sounds of little feet against the carpet, crayons and markers rolling off desks—he enjoys this too. The silence afterwards, when all the kids get picked up from after school care. It’s like his mind resets in the monotonous duties of cleaning up after his students.

JANUARY is mapped out on the blackboard behind his desk in big, sparkly blue block letters, fake snow in the form of cotton balls decorating the top half of the word. He’s putting caps back on markers and collecting paper snowmen when he stands and sees Sebastian standing in his doorway.

There’s a silence that isn’t comfortable passed between both of them before— “Your sister picked up Rose ten minutes ago” tumbles out of his mouth like _that’s_ the reason he actually thinks Sebastian is here. 

“I know,” The taller hovers in the doorway a moment before moving inside, sticking his hands in his navy pinstripe slacks. “I’m here to see you.”

Blaine swallows, puts the stack of snowmen on one of the desks as Sebastian sits on the corner of his own. The tension is thick between them, hard to cut with just one emotion, and he almost wants to shake himself because _he’s_ the one who let it get this way.

“Oh?” He rubs the back of his neck. “What uhm, can I help you with?”

Sebastian’s eyebrows lift at his formal tone but doesn’t comment on it. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Blaine crosses his arms over his chest, as if the move isn’t defensive enough he adds with a small noise between a scoff and a laugh, “No I haven’t.”

The taller turns a little on his desk, searching for something before lifting up the fib jar. Blaine glares at him as he waves it at him, setting it down next to his leg.

“Want to try that again?”

He huffs, watches Sebastian go through the things on his desk until he finds a packet of stickers. He peels off one of the bumble bees from his animal pack and waits, stares a hole right through him.

“I haven’t been avoiding you!” He says again, almost incredulously, to which Sebastian responds by flicking the sticker into the jar.

“I thought you were having a good time, with us…hanging out. I mean…weren’t we _going_ somewhere with this?”

Not this talk, not _now._ Blaine literally wants to be anywhere else other than in this conversation.

He shakes his head, his words coming out a bit brasher than he intends. “Oh right of _course_ , I should have figured that’s where you wanted this to end up going—”

“I never said—”

“The ‘closer’, right?” Blaine cuts him off. “That’s what you told me they call you at work.”

Sebastian stares at him, licking his lips. He can tell that he’s hit a nerve somewhere, one that’s open and exposed even though he hadn’t meant to. “You’re twisting my words.” Sebastian says calmly.

The shorter groans, aggravated; runs his hands over his face and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I just can’t _do_ this, okay?”

He puts another sticker in the jar. “No you can, you just _won’t.”_

Blaine rolls his eyes. “Why do you always have to be so argumentative? I’m just trying to be honest with you.”

“Because I don’t believe you!” Sebastian’s voice rises, echoing in the classroom.

Defensiveness builds up like a wall in his chest, making his arms close around his midsection even tighter—like he’s trying to protect himself, keep Sebastian out. Because deep down Blaine knows that he’s _right._

He shakes his head, laughs thickly, the sound stuck in his throat. “So after a few breakfasts and kisses you suddenly think you know me?”

Sebastian scoffs, “You’d be surprised. I think I know you a little better than you wish I did.”

Blaine doesn’t deny that, and another sticker doesn’t sacrifice itself to the fib jar. He clenches his jaw at him, eyes wide.

“And what if something happens? What if…” He swallows, the taller staring at him expectantly. “Sebastian if this doesn’t work out between us, what then? It could jeopardize Rose’s education, my _job.”_

Sebastian shoves the entire sticker pack in the jar and sits up off his desk and walks towards him, shaking his head. Blaine’s aware that his words are nearly feeding directly off of the conversation he’d had with Miranda in the grocery store, off his insecurities.

“Miranda said something to you, didn’t she?”

Blaine’s resolve is astoundingly unwavering even though his brain is firing a bunch of questions towards his mouth, none of which he utters. Had Miranda had the same conversation with Sebastian? When? How many times? Why hadn’t he said anything?

He shakes his head softly, avoiding the other’s gaze as he steps closer and put his hands on his shoulders. Blaine knows he should brush him off, take a few steps back, but he’s missed his touch. His palms rest warmly against his shoulder blades, heat seeping through the fabric of his work shirt and into his skin.

It’s tantalizing and he thinks that might be part of Sebastian’s charm; how much he _knows_ he’s exactly that too.

“Blaine, you know I’d never let anything happen to your job.” He squeezes his shoulders, rubbing his thumbs along his collarbone. “I know how much it means to you.”

But this thing about Miranda, even though it plucks nervous chords deep inside his chest, his job and his students, Rose’s education—there’s something else that Blaine’s not saying. He’s not sure if Sebastian can pick up on it, and maybe he can, he’s been stuck in this gray right along with him. It probably _feels_ a lot more obvious than it actually is.

Blaine tips his head forward until their foreheads touch, his chin lifting so that their lips barely graze one another’s. He lets out a slow breath, barely a kiss, more like just oxygen exchanged. He whispers that he can’t and Sebastian pulls back, the space painful between them, empty.

“You just don’t want to do this anymore because you’ve been _happy_ and that scares you.” He says, shakes his head at him and turns to leave.

The echo the door makes as it closes echoes throughout his entire body, shakes him to his core, plays his ribs like the strings of a cello.

And maybe Sebastian can read him a lot better than he thought he could.

000

January begins to fade into the end of the month, on the edge of February. The weather is still brutally cold, harsh winds and unforgiving snow, but there’s something about the frost on windows and snowflakes catching in his curls or on his nose that he innately loves.

Sebastian doesn’t pick Rose up from school as often as he used to, her parents are working with one another post divorce to try and be there for their little girl as often as they can. But they’ve started texting, in small increments, just a causal back and forth. Blaine doesn’t know if he’d exactly call them friends.

But it’s better than nothing. It’s more than he expected to get.

Because regardless of Blaine trying to put what’s best for his job first…Sebastian was sort of right. He _is_ afraid of being happy because sometimes all that comes with it are surprising and unexpected disappointments.

And being happy, he knows, should be worth all those things. All those dips and bad moments and miscommunications. But maybe happiness isn’t what he thinks it is; it wasn’t like that for his parents, was it? Or Sebastian’s. Maybe he’s got it all wrong.

He wakes up on a Tuesday morning late; he’s slept through his alarm. He manages to smack his alarm into snooze mode and drags a hand through his hair, but he can barely lift his head from his pillow. There’s a throbbing behind his eyes, making him squeeze them shut against the morning sunshine, a soft groan leaving his lips as he forces himself upright in bed.

Blaine rubs the bridge of his nose before reaching for his phone, calling the principal so she knows he’s not coming in—he really should have known better than to think he’d make it through flu and cold season without incident.

He should have figured he’d end up sick, one of his students at least, no matter what, ends up missing a school day or two throughout the months of December and January. He can only sanitize the surfaces in his classroom so much; kids will be kids.

Blaine makes it to the kitchen and downs a cup of orange juice, is glad that he seems to just have a head cold and no version of any kind of stomach bug. But that doesn’t mean he’s not miserable; his nose keeps running and his head feels cloudy, every time he sneezes he feels like his brain may quite literally come through his eye sockets and he’s got a killer headache despite Advil.

His body feels heavy as he lies down on the couch to die, he’s pretty sure. He’s contemplating who to leave all his bowties to when he falls into a dreamless sleep. Blaine doesn’t remember waking up long enough to put the TV on but when he wakes up the next time it’s because of a ping signaling that he has a message on his phone. He glances at the time, wondering how in the world he’s spent a good part of the day dozing in and out of sleep.

He looks down and unlocks his phone.

**Sebastian** : _Where have you been all day? Avoiding me again? ;) Obviously you can’t get rid of me so easily, killer._

Blaine finds himself smiling, trying to type a reply that doesn’t sound as awful as he feels.

**Blaine** : _At home. One of those little munchkins got me sick._

A moment passes, he glances at the TV to try and figure out what movie is playing before his phone receives another message.

**Sebastian** : _Germ sponges, I swear to God._

He chuckles before it sets him into a coughing fit, the room slightly spinning as he lies his head back against the arm of the couch again. He sighs, snuggling back into a blanket before rubbing his nose with the back of his wrist, a sneeze stuck somewhere in there.

**Blaine** : _I’ll be fine, just need some more sleeepsxz_

He sends that without really looking, already dozing, screen still on and fingers hovering over keys.

000

Blaine jerks awake at the sound of a knocking on his door, almost startling him enough that he tumbles off the couch. He manages to catch himself on the coffee table, his phone falling to the carpet anyways. He rubs a hand over his face, stumbling up and off the couch, the room spinning so fast that he almost has to sit down on the floor before answering the door.

“One second!” He calls out, so the knocking stops, and he grabs a wall near the front door to take a large breath of air into his lungs.

His hand falls on the doorknob and he tries to look as composed as he can before he jars open the door a little—and nearly starts at who he sees.

“What…are you doing here?” He asks Sebastian, Rose in his arms trying to peak into his apartment through the space of the door.

Sebastian smiles, adjusting a bag in his hand and Rose in his arms. “I’m guessing you didn’t see half the sleep induced texts you sent me.”

Blaine pales, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. No, he doesn’t remember…but he can only imagine.

“I think ‘I miss you’ was somewhere in those jumble of letters,” He teases, a light laugh coming from his throat. He pushes the door a little further open, making Blaine take a step back. Sebastian leans down a little to whisper in his ear. “Along with some other… _comments_ that Rose probably shouldn’t hear, but we can always discuss those later in private.” He winks, passing him into his apartment.

Blaine nearly has a coughing spasm as a noise leaves his mouth, quickly shutting the door. “You can’t be here; I don’t want to get you two sick.”

“I have the immune system of a superhero,” Sebastian assures him, setting Rose down on the floor. He says something to her in French and fixes her dress. “Besides, Rose was very insistent and who am I to say no to a pretty girl.”

He wants to _glare_ at Sebastian for bringing her because isn’t this mess complicated enough as it is? But he can’t find the energy to when she turns and grins up at him with a piece of folded green construction paper between her fingers. He sighs and kneels on the floor to be eyelevel with her but is careful to keep his distance.

“No moe sick Baaane.” She says and hands him the card.

Blaine can’t help but smile as he opens it, there’s a short stick figure in the middle with a bowtie and wild black curls, GET WELL SOON MR. A spelled out in block letters across the top in messy scrawl. Some of the letters are backwards but it’s signed by everyone in his class.

He laughs, throat scratchy as he runs his thumb over Rose’s name on the bottom in red crayon. Blaine chances a look at Sebastian, sees him watching them both carefully, notices something in his eyes that he doesn’t quite know the name of.

But he feels it too, if that makes any sense.

“Thanks a lot sweetheart,” He gently tugs at the end of her dress, making her giggle. “I definitely owe you a hug and some extra star stickers.” He winks before standing.

“Have you eaten at all today?” Sebastian asks as Blaine crosses the room and changes the channel to some cartoons for Rose. She hops over to the couch and perches herself in the middle as the shorter follows Sebastian to the kitchen.

“Not exactly.” Blaine says meekly as he watches him take some ingredients out of the bag he’d brought with him, setting them down on the counter.

He hesitates a moment before looking in at Rose on the couch, setting the card down from his class on the island table before staring a hole into the side of Sebastian’s head.

“Careful,” He looks at him and smirks, eyes trailing down Blaine’s form before looking into hazel. “If you keep staring at me like that I might get the wrong impression.”

Blaine scoffs, looks at the ceiling a moment and tries to ignore how his stomach flutters—once again reminded that Sebastian’s brazenness is somehow infuriating and arousing all at the same time.

“Why are you here.” He asks, it’s not a question this time, more of a demand.

Sebastian sighs, pauses as he sets a pan down on the stove, Blaine pointedly ignoring how he seems to know where everything is in his kitchen—the domesticity of it.

“You know why.” He turns to look at him, leans against the counter next to the fridge.

Blaine swallows, his heart starting to pound in his ears a mile a minute, vibrating in his ribcage. He has no idea whether he’s more terrified or thrilled. “I thought…” He trails off.

Sebastian smiles softly, tilting his head a little. “It’s okay to be scared, Blaine.” He says gently, as if talking to a child. “Besides, you can’t get rid of me so easily.” That trademark smirk is back and something bottoms heavily in Blaine’s stomach.

He closes the space between them, pushes himself up on his toes and _kisses_ him, fast and forcefully. It takes him a moment to realize what he’s done, when Sebastian starts kissing back and pulls away, his hand coming up to his mouth.

“Oh god I’m—I’m sorry,” He laughs hotly, Sebastian breathing a little heavy against him from the kiss. “I forgot I’m sick.”

Sebastian shakes his head, doesn’t allow Blaine to take any more steps backwards, cups his face in his one hand. He draws him close, smiling, “I think I’ll take my chances.” He presses their lips together again, their mouths finding the familiar organized rhythm.

Blaine has to pull back after a few moments to breathe, his nose is stuffed up and he feels sort of dizzy, though he doesn’t know if that’s from his cold or Sebastian’s kisses. He feels sort of disgusting, run down and exhausted—but Sebastian doesn’t seem to notice. He’s not looking at him like that.

Blaine rests their foreheads together, Sebastian’s thumb tracing his cheek as his other arm wraps around his back to hold him in place.

“How bout some pancakes?” Sebastian asks, smiling.

Blaine can’t help but chuckle. “Sure,” He hasn’t had any in a long time…for no specific reason or anything. “I’d love some.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :3 like I’ve said…updates will come when I have inspiration to continue!

**Author's Note:**

> citrouille means pumpkin in French :3 I may or may not add more to this depending on if it's requested, thanks for reading :)


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